


The Mercy Seat

by Daiya_Darko



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Execution, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiya_Darko/pseuds/Daiya_Darko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce heard stories from the chamber of how Christ was born into a manger and like some ragged stranger, died upon the cross. He thinks it fitting in its way, since He was a carpenter by trade, or at least that’s what he’s told. So it’s only fitting that Bruce’s death come by the work of his own hands. He’ll die like Jesus, and maybe no one else realizes it, but it’s kind of ironic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mercy Seat

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Jessie ([](http://poins.tumblr.com)Poins) ♥  
> This song is directly inspired by The Mercy Seat by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. The summary is partially a rephrasing of some of the lyrics.

When they come for him, he is hiding away in the basement levels of Stark Tower. He can hear the low hum of computers and the rattling of pipes, but even those don’t drown out the gradually increasing sound of boots and angry voices yelling.

Bruce closes his eyes and relaxes his muscles. He should be used to this by now. It’s no different from his childhood, really.

The door on the other side of the lab slams open and Bruce can hear Tony shouting at General Ross.

“You have no right to do this! He’s innocent! He’s not the Hulk!” There’s a thud, the sound of a body colliding with something hard, and Tony’s voice falls silent.

Someone’s getting hurt trying to protect him –again.

Bruce could laugh at the strange twist of fate if it weren’t so depressing.

“Doctor Bruce Banner, you are under arrest,” Ross’ voice booms triumphantly above him. Bruce tunes out his voice once he begins listing the names of the dead, of the people whose blood has dried on his hands.

No, not his hands –the Hulk’s.

Bruce is read his rights, and thick, metal cuffs pinch his wrists. Suddenly, he feels dizzy – everything has slowed down, from his heart rate to his reaction time, even as he’s dragged to his feet.

“These cuffs you’re wearing are monitoring your heart rate. As soon as it gets above 80, a small dosage of tranquilizer is released. Don’t want you causing more of a mess.” The general says this calmly, in tones he’d explain the buttons of a remote control to a child. Bruce meets those cold, blue eyes and smiles back at them.

“Very nice work, General. Your technology?”

“Your friend’s. In fact, he’s the one who’s gonna make sure everything goes right when we deliver justice to the families of the victims.”

Bruce’s smile falls as he’s marched out the room. He looks past the guards holding Tony back, and gives him a small, chastising frown.

“Change, Bruce! Run!” Tony screams as he’s punched in the stomach.

Bruce shakes his head and smiles. He looks ahead again and says quietly, “I’m tired of running. This might be nice.”

Bruce’s cell is claustrophobic – only a slit in the wall for light and air – but he doesn’t mind the dark. He spends most of his time in bed, sleeping for the most part, because the collar around his neck keeps him drugged. He couldn’t get angry even if he wanted to — and he doesn’t want to. In the back of his mind, The Hulk paces worriedly, but Bruce shushes the low growls and plays with the edges of his sheets.

This was going to happen one day – he knew it from the very start. All the death and destruction the Other Guy caused wasn’t going to be forgotten.

But when did Tony start working on a way to kill him? That was the only thing that bothered Bruce. He had worked with Tony on a lot of projects; he would have noticed something amiss, something that suggested Bruce needed to get away as soon as possible.

Instead, Bruce had allowed himself to grow comfortable. He had found a place where he was safe, wanted, maybe even loved, if he let himself think that much. His only regret was that he let his comfort weaken him, making him vulnerable to attack from the last person he suspected.

Tony visits one day, and Bruce is brought out to an interrogation cell. Tony’s eyes fall to the collar and his eye twitches.

“How are you doing, big guy?”

“It’s not the Marriott, but I’ve stayed in worse.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Bruce notices the sweat stains just inside of Tony’s collar. In fact, his tie isn’t even on straight, one cufflink is missing on his jacket, and the sunglasses are smudged. Bruce frowns briefly before asking, “Are you okay?”

“I think I should be asking you that.”

“I think you should know the answer.”

Tony throws his arms around Bruce’s neck, one hand buried in the mess of curls at the base of Bruce’s neck. Bruce holds him, patting his back and soothing the silent tears of his friend.

“I know it’s not your fault, Tony.”

“But it is. I was trying to find a cure for you – ”

“Even though I said not to?”

“And I got subpoenaed for all my work. They threatened to hold me accountable – “

“Hey, just stop talking, okay?” Bruce pulls away and plucks the handkerchief from Tony’s breast pocket, dabbing at Tony’s eyes.

“I’m not asking for explanations. I just need to know if you’re going to try and do something stupid, like break me out of here.”

Tony sniffs and takes the soiled piece of cloth back. “No.”

“Good. Then I can die knowing I didn’t completely fuck up everything for everyone I love.” Bruce kisses his cheek and walks to the door. As he’s led away, he can hear Tony screaming for him, begging him to come back and clarify.

But Bruce figures it’s best to just leave Tony with his thoughts.

There is no trial, for the military has taken jurisdiction and declared this a special circumstance. Bruce is alone with his thoughts, humming old songs in his cell, the lyrics long forgotten.

A month passes of silence, and Bruce knows it’s because Tony is trying to buy him time to legally free him, but Bruce knows it won’t work. He allowed himself to be brought here. He accepted the guilt. He did not seek justice.

The guards escort Bruce to the stainless steel chair and exhales slowly through his nose. This is his design from his old files when working on how to kill the Hulk. Bruce frowns and looks at the viewing window, instantly catching Tony’s eye and chuckling bitterly.

“Tony never knows when to quit,” Bruce says quietly to himself, startling the guard.

Bruce sits down and allows himself to be strapped in. The device is intended to sedate him without rendering unconscious; the Hulk will be triggered and chemicals will suppress the receptors responsible for bringing forth the Hulk. That’s how the device was supposed to work: Chemical lobotomy. It would be nice to never feel anger ever again.

Then the Avengers showed they needed the Hulk, so Bruce tossed the plans.

“Doctor Banner, we decided that since you’re a man of science, maybe you’d like to know what’s going to happen to you now,” Ross’s voice says from a speaker in the ceiling. “In fact, we decided to let Tony tell you, since he built the chair.”

Bruce smiles softly at the window and says, “I’d like that – to hear the voice of my only friend before I go.”

A choked sob comes through the speaker, and Tony says roughly, “Bruce, I fixed the chemical components so that even though you can’t move, you also can’t feel anything. The compound in your original design was painful, to say the least. I don’t want you to hurt anymore, big guy.”

“Thank you, Tony. That’s very nice of you.”

A shuddery sigh. “Okay, so you’ll be sedated first, then numbed, and then the final compound will attack the receptors in your brain. Except, they’ll start by eating away at your medulla, then your frontal lobe. Next to go is your parietal lobe, and the rest will grow inoperable after that.” Tony pauses and whispers, “I’m so sorry, Bruce.”

“Not your fault, big guy,” Bruce closes his eyes and relaxes his muscles, letting his fingers uncurl as the machine’s hydraulics lock him in place and the liquid slowly drips into his body.

Before he loses motor functions, Bruce decides to make one last request.

“Talk to me as I go?”

Bruce looks at the window, and though it’s dimly lit, he can see Pepper’s arm draped over Tony’s violently shaking shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is going to be okay…”

Already, his head feels light, and he’s lost all sensation of feeling in his body.

“You were never a bad man, Bruce. You were just a victim of the one thing you loved the most.”

The lights grow brighter and the sounds echo as his heart slows its pace to a crawl. Bruce thinks, _How peaceful is this. See, Hulk? Death isn’t so bad._

Tony’s voice is faint now, but Bruce can just make out the last words of, “…you both were loved.”

But the beast responds with angry growls and cries of pain as his existence is torn apart. For a brief moment, Bruce feels an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse that dissipates as the drugs work their way through his brain.

He closes his eyes and smiling, exhales one last time.

_See? It’s okay. Time to rest now, Hulk._


End file.
